Wrecked (Dueling Devils 3)

She squirmed. Her breathing increased.

“I can smell how much you like it, baby. Now, we can do this the hard way and leave us

both aching and unfulfilled, or you can just give me what I know we both want.”

She turned her head slowly and tilted her head back. He nipped her lower lip and devoured

her mouth. She moaned, parting her lips. He slipped his tongue inside and closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment. There was a give to her he didn’t want to see slip away. Determined to hold on to the foothold, he deepened the kiss. She hummed and he smiled against her lips,

pulling away. “I need to stop now or I won’t be leaving.” He rubbed her swollen lips with his thumb. “This is my favorite look, mussed, swollen, and well pleasured by me.”

She licked the same spot he went over. “Don’t read too much into the fact that you can make my body respond. I like the things you do to me.”

“You like more than what I do to you, Gia. That’s why you always try to dodge me until you need your fix again. I know I’m not the only one feeling this.” She opened her mouth and he shook his head, glaring at her. “The only thing I want to hear from those sexy ass lips right now is ‘I’ll see you when you get back, Colm.’”

Her eyes darkened. “I’ll see you when you get back , Colm.”

“Fuck, I like the sound of my name when you say it. It’ll sound even better when you’re

screaming it.” He winked and rose quickly before she could retort. Her huff as he walked out made him chuckle. There’d always been a seriousness far older than her thirty some years. It made him want to amuse her. He never understood until he knew about her past. Now, he just wanted to make shit right, but he had no clue how. She’s turning me into a little bitch and I can’t even get her to admit we’re in a fucking relationship. Fucking ridiculous. I used to give motherfuckers a hard time for doing this very thing, now I’m about to eat crow pie.

He entered the clubhouse fifteen minutes later. Littered with passed out bodies, beer bottles, the scent of smoke and sex thick enough to make him choke, it was silent as a tomb. He stepped over prone bodies and crept his way to Clue’s office. He rapped and opened the door. “You still awake?”

“For now,” Clue said, setting down his traveling mug. The little bastard had a Keurig to

himself in here.

“Alright, give me the run down.”

“She’s got a shit ton of money and plenty of soldiers willing to go down for her. Easy to do when you recruit them young and present yourself as salvation from a life of scrounging to get food in your belly and stay out of jail or worse. She treats them good as long as they do what she says.”

“How the fuck did you manage that?”

“People talk no matter what you do and she’s got a small group about an hour away,

comprised of a bunch of transplants from a small town in Jamaica.”

“You think she sent them over?” Lefty asked.

“Or found them. Maybe they escaped? Maybe it’s how Gia got here. I find it hard to believe it’s a coincidence.”

“Agreed. Shit.” Lefty rolled his neck. Getting her to talk would be like opening a long

submerged chest with a crow bar, slippery and difficult. “Why come all the way out here for a few people?”

“To prove a point, or regain something very valuable?”

“To try to recreate a kingdom because hers is crumbling back home. These people are living off of a fear of the past. Maybe that’s no longer reality.”

“Only way to tell is to talk to people, and I think we’d look a little suspect walking into little Jamaica.”

Lefty nodded. This would be like asking Gia to walk back into the fire. “Thanks, man. I’ll take it from here.”

“Alright, I’m going to go sleep for the next twenty-four hours.” Clue shut down the

computer and stood, stumbling out like a zombie.

Lefty sank down in the chair and placed the phone call he’d avoided as long as he could.